Lost or Stolen

When my hard drive gave out, I didn't lose any irreplaceable pictures.  I learned my lesson about that years ago.  I did lose one partly written story.  I'll briefly summarize it here, not actually the story, but what it was about. It was about collecting rocks for my garden.  I don't like the idea of purchasing rocks, not even precious ones, but particularly not the ones I stumble over - the ones placed by forces of nature long before I stumbled along.  I have purchased rocks anyway, but my car and I really can't carry more than a very few at a time.  Mostly I find rocks and carry them home.  Surprisingly, when you look for something like rocks (or used disposable lighters, combs, hair ties, or flatware,) it appears without explanation in your path.  There are good sized rocks sitting in city streets.  There are rocks in the wild and rocks in gardens.  I try, for the most part, not to take other people's landscape rocks.  Nevertheless, I lift rocks sometimes right from someone else's garden.  I half expect someone to emerge from a house, and shout stop thief!  That's my rock!  I have my rationalizations, but that's all they are.  And I have some rocks.  Not nearly as many as I need, and I still think I may have created a small depression in the surface of the earth.  Things and animals roll down hill toward my home.

The stone structure depicted here was a watering trough, built in 1906 and 1907 and much later designated South Pasadena historic landmark number 7.  It was a place for tired and thirsty horses and travelers to rest and hydrate on their way from Los Angeles to Pasadena.  Before people built lovely structures out of rocks, there were many more rocks just sitting around on the ground.

Occupy McDonald Park

Weekends are wonderful and all too short. Every weekend, I need to catch up on gardening, laundry, grocery shopping, and myriad other tasks and errands. I want to spend time with my favorite people (not limited to the ones I am lucky enough to live or work with). I can choose but one or two venues from the smorgasbord of community cultural events. This Saturday was the Global Day of Action with Occupy Los Angeles. It was also Artwalk Pasadena, Taste of South Lake, Pasadena Heritage Craftsman Weekend, the Fork in the Road Forking Party, and a hundred other things I missed. I did paint in the morning at McDonald Park in Pasadena, and later I attended the Urban Rancho Sustainable Garden Party at the Lummis Home in Highland Park.

McDonald Park is in the middle of Pasadena's Bungalow Heaven. Bungalow Heaven is Pasadena's first Landmark District, and is on the National Register of Historical Places. It is a decidedly 99 percent neighborhood of small early 20th Century single family homes. The park fits well in the neighborhood. It has a playground, a single basketball court, a handball court, a softball field, really nice bathrooms, trees and picnic tables. In all truth, it's not really heaven, but it is quite nice. There seems to be a powerful neighborhood watch sentiment. I detected suspicious eyes on me -- me, middle-aged super harmless painter lady. Oh well.

I got to wondering who McDonald of McDonald Park was. My first line of investigation was the park sign, and then the city's website. No first name, just McDonald, like Old McDonald, but I didn't think that was it. I learned that the very first McDonalds restaurant was in Pasadena, but I didn't think that was it either. Here's what I finally came up with. And it's only a guess. In the 1880s, John McDonald established a real estate and insurance business in the center of Pasadena. He later was one of the founders of the first trust and loan of Pasadena. He became City Treasurer. In the 1920s he urged the approval of bonds for the civic center and for the water district. John McDonald was the Grand Marshal of the Rose Parade in 1928.

I painted this house on Mar Vista because I liked the light coming through the trees especially in the background. I didn't quite get it, but I think there's a few nice things happening in the painting. I cropped some of the left side because it was a bit eye-catching without being important. But that left the tree in the middle which isn't ideal. I think if weekends were longer, I'd be a better painter too.

Into the Weeds

I painted today just off a tiny Alhambra street that has some pretty venerable art history. Champion Place was once home to the studios of artists Norman Rockwell, Clyde Forsythe, Frank Tenney Johnson, Eli Harvey, Tex Wheeler, Sam Hyde Harris, and Marjorie Reed. The eucalyptus tree lined arroyo has since been cemented in, and a batch of mid-century homes obscure the view. Nevertheless, it remains a place of abiding charms as well as a number of cats.


My painting got a bit cluttered and mired in details. But I think you can still see that it's a nice place. I was enticed away from painting by an invitation to tea, so I didn't quite finish on site. I completed the painting later at home, and since I had the paints out, I decided to try a second take on a postcard. And here you have it, almost completely without detail. Something in between would probably be best, something closer to the less fussy right side on the first painting.


I'm not sure how to bring this up. I worry sometimes that I'm a discourteous blogger. I think I behave myself pretty well on the blogs of others, but here I often neglect my guests. I don't thank you for your insightful or kind remarks. I don't even respond to your questions sometimes. I'm sorry. It doesn't mean I don't value you and treasure your comments. I don't really have an excuse. I will say my mother taught me to offer food and drinks, to take coats and write notes. But really I'm afraid she knew nothing of how to blog.

Parking at the Castle Green

Last time I painted the Castle Green Apartments, I got a parking ticket. This time I ensured that parking enforcement would not go unnoticed. That's my car. A slightly wonky version (my painting, that is) of a 1992 Honda Accord Wagon.

I could tell you about the jazz benefit that was going on in the park, or about the young paramedic who interviewed me on the meaning of life for his college project. I could tell you about the meaning of life. But I sense you want some history.

In the late 19th Century, Pasadena was hugely popular with tourists from other parts of the country, who came for the mild winter weather. Railroads and hotels were built to accommodate them. One or more of the huge fine old hotels fell victim to fires in those days of gaslights. The Webster House was the first fireproof building in Pasadena. It was purchased from Mr. Webster by civil war Colonel George Gill Green, whose family fortune came from patent medicines. Green expanded the hotel, and built the luxurious annex that that became known as the Castle Green. Colonel Green marketed two elixirs, "Green's August Flower" and "Dr. Boschee's German Syrup." The German Syrup definitely contained an opiate, and August Flower probably did also. August Flower was touted for its benefits in curing dyspepsia. Possibly it was responsible for the untimely death of the woman in white who haunts the Castle Green. Or perhaps I just made that up.

Old Mill, Now and Then

I painted this afternoon at El Molino Viejo. It was a beautiful day, with the sun ducking in and out of clouds and spring well underway. The painting looks very similar to the one I painted last summer. I chose to paint the same view since I knew it worked. I think I might like the new one even better. It has more color variations and the appearance of depth. I'm very fond of the simple trees in the background. However, my thoughts were on an entirely different picture of El Molino Viejo. This one:


I remembered seeing this photograph on the internet, and I got a huge kick out of it, because there is this woman well over 100 years ago, doing just exactly what I do. I'm betting she didn't go home and blog about it though. In my quest to find the picture again, I also happened to learn who is pictured. The seated woman is Elizabeth Putnam, a Los Angeles painter and art teacher. Looking over her shoulder is Gutzon Borglum, whom Elizabeth married. He was 20 years younger, and she left him in Europe. His best known work, by a long shot, is Mount Rushmore.

Ernest Debs

This is my painting from yesterday at the Audubon Center at Ernest Debs Park. Ernest Debs was a former Los Angeles County Supervisor from 1958 through 1974. Coincidentally, these are the same years I was a child. L. A. County supervisors have enormous power. There are only five of them in a county that encompasses over 4,000 square miles (or 10,000 square kilometers) and close to 10 million people. A few of the functions county supervisors oversee are flood control, beaches, criminal prosecutions, jails, hospitals, museums, the board of health, emergency communication and disaster relief. The Board of Supervisors passes ordinances with the force of laws. Although we elect them, we tend not to pay much attention to our county supervisors. Only once ever was an incumbent defeated. The names of the supervisors are somewhat familiar to us, but if they didn't have things named for them, they would pass into obscurity in a short time.

We remember Ernie Debs because he had a park named for him, although the land for the park was set aside before Ernie's time. Debs was famous briefly in the 1960s when he launched a law enforcement campaign against the counter-culture that was thriving at music clubs on the Sunset Strip - an unincorporated (hence county) section of Sunset Boulevard adjacent to Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Ernest Debs also signed and presented a proclamation naming Louise Huebner the official witch of Los Angeles County. This is true. Louise's husband was Mentor Huebner, a film industry illustrator and fine artist. Here's a view of Los Angeles painted by Mentor Huebner.

Mission San Gabriel Arcángel

I chose to paint at this location today, not, as you may imagine, because I was remembering my pastel drawing of years ago (and the prior post.) This is very close to the San Gabriel Fine Arts Association Gallery, where I dropped off paintings today for a plein air show. It's my first painting of the year. I can tell I'm rusty.

There were many fourth graders exploring the Mission today with their parents and their cameras. Little Californians study California history in the fourth grade. The missions are a huge part of California history. The little Californians build models of missions and visit actual missions and take pictures to prove they were there.

After Europeans located California and explored a bit, they set about colonizing it. The Spanish monarchy used Catholic clergy to settle what is now the State of California. The clergy used the native Californians as their workforce and their proselytes. They built and populated several missions. The missions and their land holdings took up a substantial fraction of California, and the rest was claimed for Spain. Approximately fifty years after the American Revolution, Mexico, which included California, won its independence from Spain. Not long after, the United States was looking to expand its territory. In the Mexican-American War, the United States Army conquered what is now California; a treaty at the end of the war secured California for the United States.

The Spanish Colonial influence remains in California, explaining the names of our cities - San Francisco, San Jose, San Diego, and El Pueblo de la Reyna de los Angeles - and our red tile roofs.

California

Here are some California poppies painted under the tutelage of Donna Barnes-Roberts. I'm sort of a California geek. Poppies and quail make my heart swell with pride. I love that our state fish is the same color as our state flower. Our natural features are spectacular. I think we have a wonderful flag, although I always think its a little sad and ironic that we honor an animal that we largely (or totally?) eliminated from our state. Less than 100 years ago there were grizzly bears in the San Gabriel mountains. However, if you can believe Snopes, it was supposed to be a pear on the flag, but somebody misheard.